


Gunshots are Painful

by deutschtard



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-07
Updated: 2013-06-07
Packaged: 2017-12-14 05:29:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/833302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deutschtard/pseuds/deutschtard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hadn't thought a man in a state such as Will Graham would have had the ability to hit him, even at such close range.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gunshots are Painful

      He hadn't thought a man in a state such as Will Graham would have had the ability to hit him, even at such close range.

      Getting shot at point blank range with a 9mm glock hurt. A lot. By the time Will fell beside him, Dr. Gideon had blacked out from the pain and the shock.

  
      He had vague recollections of the ambulance, the soft cuffs holding his arms down as the two nervous paramedics tried to stop the bleeding, told the closest hospital that they were coming in hot with the escaped convict. He might have heard his name, he didn't pay close attention to anything but his insides being on fire as his blood leaked out of him.  
     

      The sedation wore off and his hands were still cuffed to his bed, as was his chest, just above the incision. The morphine drip was a nice addition. Everything was fuzzy, and he chuckled to himself, wondering if the fuzziness of who he was exactly had permeated his waking vision as well, making the entire world fuzzy. The ever-present beeping of his heart reat monitor broke through the fog in his mind to dispel that thought. He smacked his lips, mouth dry as a bone despite the saline he knew they were administering him. He took a few breaths, gauging where the incision was, wondering if the incredibly sick FBI agent had hit anything important. The clock on the wall stated he'd been out for quite some time, and the sun peering over the horizon confirmed it. His fingers clamped around the call button in his hand, throat so parched forming words would have been difficult.  
 

      It was amusing to watch a "nurse" come in--who must have been an olympic weightlifter in his spare time--with two armed guards flanking him.  
"What do you need," the nurse stated, not asked.

      Abel took a breath, smacking his lips again, "W-water." Oh, how he wanted to say more, but his throat was protesting having even uttered those syllables. he cracked a smile as the guards now flanked his bed, the nurse coming to his left side with a styrofoam cup filled with ice water. The straw stuck to his lips as he gulped down the entire contents of the small cup. "Oh...more please," he said, his heavy sedation having not entirely worn off made it difficult to speak in as much volume as he was normally used to, "I'm quite dehydrated. Perhaps turn up my saline drip?" 

      The nurse glared at him, face etched into a look of stony silence. 

      "I'm a surgeon, I know when saline drips need to be increased."

      "It's already increased as high as you need, Gideon," the nurse snapped, letting him have a second cup of water.

      He practically inhaled this one, too, water coating his throat and lips, the cold eating away at his lethargy, "If you're keeping my dosage low because I killed those people earlier tod--yesterday, I will have no problem suing you. Let me talk to your attending."

      Like they had all been magnetically summoned, the three men left the room and slammed the door. 

      "...how rude," he pressed the button again every minute for the next five minutes until the three men returned, accompanied by Dr. Bloom, arms crossed, bags under her eyes. "Why Dr. Bloom, making a personal visit to see me?"

      "Abel," she was tired, annoyed, and beyond formalities, "Your saline drip doesn't need to be increased. You're not getting special favors. If you're not careful, they're going to take the call button out of your hand and let you lie there and suffer and scream if you need something."

      He angled his head and smirked at her, "You can't separate a patient from his nurse call button, what if I have an emergency and pop a stitch or something? Screaming won't help me then."  
 

      "Stop harrassing the nurses."

      "Nurse."

      She sighed, "What?"

      "Nurse. Singular. This big fella is the only nurse here, those two are armed officers."

      As she turned on her heel and stalked off, he admired her and her clacking heels, "See ya," he said, his voice lilting as he put his head back on the pillow. "Big guy, when's breakfast?"

      The nurse and the two guards left just as abruptly as they had the first time.

                                                                                                                  * * * *

      It was two days before he was transferred back to the Baltimore Hospital for the Criminally Insane, "Home sweet home," he said as they wheeled him in through the front door. Despite his danger level, he was housed in the medical wing of the hospital. He was given a private room and the same guard set-up as the regular hospital. His nurse was a younger, unassuming man named Barney Matthews. He had seen him a few times before, but his interactions had been disappointingly brief.

      "Dr. Gideon," he said, bringing in his breakfast, "I'll respect you as long as you respect me. I don't intend to be rude to you if you don't give me cause to."

      Abel smiled. This man was one of the few who called him a doctor, though his ability to practice had been revoked two years ago. He was still a doctor, he'd still put in the years at med school and attending at Baltimore's hospitals. "Barney, I've got no problem with that."

      He liked Barney.


End file.
